


Little One

by xxPayne



Series: Unrelated Short AU's/Drabbles [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Size Difference, they kind of hate each other and then they kind of dont, this one is not actually an AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPayne/pseuds/xxPayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: I need a fic where Nick always calls Louis 'little one' and Louis always gripes at him when he does but he secretly loves the nickname.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little One

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt found on bottomlouisprompts on tumblr.  
> Wrote this in an hour because I didn't have much time, but I loved this prompt so much that I just had to write it. (I'll go back and edit this when I have time.)  
> Also, just to make it clear, this is NOT part of an actual series, hence why the series title has the word "unrelated" in it.

Louis can remember, in vivid detail, the first time he met Nick. Harry had been talking him up for months, but Louis had yet to see this ‘brilliant, hilarious, and attractive’ Nick Grimshaw, which was honestly quite alright with him; he’d listened to the stories Harry tells of him, of course, and he’d been more than a bit skeptical that Nick was truly brilliant. Despite this, the stars aligned and the Gods conspired, and Louis had the great pleasure of meeting Nick.

  
The club had been pretty empty, which was a relief because it meant that Louis and Harry’s poorly executed disguises (leather jackets and those dumb sunglasses with the bars across the lens) had worked in not drawing a crowd.

  
“Grimmy!” Harry cried, opening his frankly scarily long arms for a hug from another scarily lanky man, presumably this ‘Grimmy’ character.

  
When Nick had pulled away, Louis got an eyeful of the ridiculously pretentious fur coat the man was wearing. Apparently his distaste for the jacket was obvious, because just seconds later, Louis felt an elbow slamming into his back. “Be nice,” Harry hissed into his ear, so Louis pasted a wide smile onto his face.

  
“So great to meet you,” Louis said, stepping forward. It was then that he realized just how tall Nick really is. “Oh,” he said aloud, subconsciously putting more weight on his toes, his heels lifting off the floor.

  
Evidently, this motion hadn’t gone unnoticed by Nick, who had laughed and said, “Hello there,” and then, seconds later, “I didn’t realize you were so small.”

 

Spluttering indignantly, face red with anger, Louis had picked up his foot and slammed it down on Nick’s gigantic one. “I’m not small.”

  
Not even feigning pain, Nick had just smirked (such a prat, honestly) and said, “Alright, little one.”

  
That was, obviously, the first time the nickname was used, and despite Louis’ insistent foot-stomping and yelling, it was not the last.

  
The next time Louis had seen Nick was without Harry to play peace-keeper, so, considering, he thinks that the meeting went well.

  
Louis had been buying a pre-made cake at Tesco (it was a stressful week), standing in the aisle trying to decide between chocolate and vanilla when he heard, “What’s the occasion?”

  
He turned around, ready to face a fan, or maybe a store employee, but instead saw a smirking, smug Nick Grimshaw, admittedly towering over him. Instead of responding, Louis just rolled his eyes and turned back around to the cakes. “Do I need an occasion to buy a cake?”

  
“Suppose not,” Nick said. “Choose chocolate. The vanilla tastes like cardboard.”

  
Begrudgingly, Louis grabbed the chocolate cake and sets it in his basket. He had started to walk away when Nick shouted, “It was nice to see you too, little one!”

  
Louis had steam coming out of his ears the entire way home.

  
Somehow—and Louis really doesn’t remember how it happened, but he suspects it had to do with drinking two entire bottles of wine within an hour—Louis and Nick start fucking. It only happened when they were spectacularly drunk, and sometimes even that wasn’t enough to curb their displeasure towards each other which, at that point (though Louis wouldn’t dream of saying out loud) was becoming more of an inside joke than actual hatred.

  
Usually, when Louis and Nick were in bed, Louis would stop any and all attempts at talking of any kind before, during, or after for fear of being called that one dreaded thing that never ceased to make him angry. One night, though, Nick managed to slip one comment by, while Louis was prepping himself with two fingers, just barely not long enough to reach where he wanted them.

  
“You look so pretty like that, little one.”

  
Louis was out of the bed in a flash, huffing as he tugged his pants back on, wiping the lube off his hands on Nick’s fancy coat that was draped over the footboard. “Fuck you,” he said. “I’m not little, so stop calling me that every fucking time I see you!”

  
That had seemed to stop the ‘little one’ comments for a long while, in which Louis ate more chocolate cake from Tesco and drank more glasses of wine than he’d like to admit. Because he hadn’t missed Nick, really. Nick was just a dumb, giant, over-privileged, good for nothing asshole, and he really wasn’t even that hot anyway.

  
Louis was so okay with not seeing Nick that he didn’t even shop at the same Tesco anymore, nor did he visit that club he met Nick in. He successfully dodged all of Harry’s attempts for the three of them to get together, and it was fine. Everything was fine.

  
Until one day, when Louis was standing on his tip-toes trying to reach the glass at the very farthest corner of the cabinet and he heard, “Here, let me help you with that,” in Harry’s deep, slow voice. For the rest of the day, Louis couldn’t shake the thought that someone should have been behind him saying, “Aw, little one, need some help with that?”  
So that’s when Louis tucked all his pride into the very back of his heart and rang Nick, half-hoping that he won’t answer and half-hoping that he will. He did, of course he did, and they talked for less than a minute before Nick said, “Come to my flat,” and so Louis did.

  
Now, whenever Louis hears that mocking tone call him that wretched, awful, untrue nickname, he just turns around and says, “Call me that one more time and you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

  
(But really, Louis hasn’t made Nick sleep on the sofa a single time.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) x  
> 


End file.
